Desparado
by RipredtheGnawer
Summary: Suggestions? It's a series of random drabbles, poetry, and one-shots that will most likely have nothing to do with each other. All THG. I need to make the plot bunnies leave! Rated T because I'm paranoid.
1. Chapter 1: it's her

**A/N: Came into my head last night at around 2a.m. I'm beginning to think I have insomnia... but maybe the plot bunnies are responsible.**

**Will most likely end up being a series of random THG poems.**

* * *

It's her, it's her, the Mockingjay!

These words, by many longed to say,

To feel their fears brushed fast away.

It's her, it's her, the Mockingjay!

.

It's her, it's her, the Mockingjay!

Not so, for in the streets they lay,

Forgotten in a silent way.

It's her, it's her, the Mockingjay!

.

It's her, it's her, the Mockingjay!

Called those who, on their pallets, lay,

Breathing sickness and decay.

It's her, it's her, the Mockingjay!

.

It's her, it's her, the Mockingjay!

Their voices stilled, gone far away,

Her arrows flew, not held at bay.

It's her, it's her, the Mockingjay!

.

It's her, it's her, the Mockingjay!

The killers heard the rebels say,

As, on that grim and fateful day,

She became the Mockingjay.


	2. Chapter 2: this nightmare

**Virtual cookie to anyone who can guess which scene this is from, and who's POV it's in!**

**Hint: takes place in the second chapter of the first book**

**I bet I just made that waaaay too easy.  
**

* * *

this nightmare

I see you now,

You're white as snow,

As you walk bravely,

Yet full of woe.

I see you now,

You can still turn 'round,

But you keep on going

Without a sound.

I pull her back,

She screams your name.

How I wish

That I could do the same.

I pull her back,

She shares your blood

Her tears, they fall

To create a flood.

I speak to you,

Say "up you go."

Just this morning,

you had your bow.

You could shoot it now,

We could escape.

We could leave now,

Without a scrape.

It'll never happen,

Such chances are rare.

Just let me wake up

From this nightmare.


	3. Chapter 3: can't play, can't laugh

**A/N: Thank you, Maya Angelou!**

**'Cuz I stole the format from her. BUT disclaimer: SuCo owns THG, and Maya Angelou owns "I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings."**

**Love that poem. We're doing Harlem Renaissance stuff in school. So, thanks, too, to Mr. Bartosh!**

**Is it horrible?**

* * *

A safe child smiles at every dawn

And plays at night 'til the moon sinks down

And basks in the heat of the midday sun and wants to see tomorrow.

But a child that ever knows naught but fear

Wants nothing except what she holds most dear.

She cannot play and she cannot laugh so she waits for the time to be ripe.

The scared child fights with an iron will

Washing the blade after every kill

With the strength of the armies that cover the hills

For the scared child cries for vengeance.

The safe child does what he's done all along

For the world is made right at the sound of the gong,

And he won't back down without a sound so he trumpets his call to the sky.

But the scared child knows that the truths that she screams

Will build up her forces like strong oaken beams.

She cannot play and she cannot laugh so she helps the time to be ripe.

The scared child fights with an iron will

Staining the blade with every kill

Gone are the armies that covered the hills

But the scared child has her vengeance.


	4. Chapter 4: dreaming of screaming

**A/N: Written in a state of severe sleep-deprivation.**

**Hopefully it doesn't show too much.**

* * *

the knell rings out

then sharp, tart taps

the cries of children

as sword on sword raps.

into the forest

to flee from the fight

dead faces will hang

in the stars, come tonight.

scared and alert

always watching their backs

twisting and turning

to fend of attacks

from the kids who should be

in their beds fast asleep

there are no pillows here

though the slumber is deep.

too deep to wake up

and the shrill final scream

echoes in shadows

like part of a dream.

the stars are too bright

for the last one who stands

for their light shows the sight

of the blood on her hands.


End file.
